Plums of the Caribbean
by MsBrooklyn
Summary: Sick of all those time-tripping OCs? Me, too. And yet...what would happen if Janet Evanovich's bounty hunter, Stephanie Plum, accidentally hurtled through time and space from Macy's parking lot to the Black Pearl? Think: Cluck-in-a-Bucket & doughnuts!
1. Doughnuts?

Plums of the Caribbean By MsBrooklyn  
  
A bizarre c/o between Stephanie Plum and PotC.  
  
A/N - Stephanie Plum belongs to Janet Evanovich and PotC belongs to the Mouse. This drabble is like a Reese's peanut butter cup – two tastes that go great together (or not).  
  
Being unconscious has its advantages. It prevents you from thinking about things like the fact that your shiny new yellow Ford Escape is now charred bits of metal littering the mall parking lot. Or that your insurance company is probably not going to give you a new one. Or that the sexy new pink sandals that you bought from Macy's but couldn't really afford were in your truck when it blew up.  
  
Okay, so these were really selfish thoughts I wasn't having because I was unconscious. I could have been not having thoughts about the guy that blew up my truck, one Dwayne Cieslak. Dwayne was a skip I was working for my cousin, Vinny Plum, proprietor of Plum Bail Bonds. Cieslak missed his court appearance for a weapons possession charge. This is where I came in – Stephanie Plum, bounty hunter. It should have been easy. Just about everybody in the Burg carries a gun. Cieslak just made the mistake of having it on his front seat when he got pulled over for not wearing a seat belt. All I wanted to do was explain to Cieslak that he needed to come with me to reschedule his court date. Who knew the guy carried grenades with him?  
  
Given all these thoughts I shouldn't have been having, it was pretty obvious I didn't want to wake up and have to have them for real.  
  
The cold water in my face said that somebody really didn't care.  
  
"Hey!" Great, now my hair was going to be a soggy mess on top of everything else. I cracked open an eye and was greeted by a man standing over me. He had dreadlocks with all sorts of beads and knick-knacks woven in and he was wearing an out of style puffy pirate shirt. "You must be one of Sally's friends."  
  
The man shook his head and flashed me a grin. Gold teeth glittered down at me.  
  
Sally Sweet was a transvestite rocker that sometimes helped me. I turned my head and saw a vertically challenged man who was similarly dressed. I knew better than to call them midgets. Not after last Christmas. "You don't know Randy Briggs, do you?"  
  
He shook his head.  
  
I saw up with a groan and ran a hand through my soggy hair. As my eyes focused, one thing became very clear. "This isn't the Macy's parking lot!"  
  
Dreadlocks crouched down beside me and I realized he was wearing eyeliner. Lots of it. And his was probably in better shape than mine at the moment. "Easy, love, you've had a rough time of it."  
  
As I looked around it became obvious I was on a boat. Great. Not only had my Escape and my sandals been blown to bits, but I'd been shanghaied. And I was going to be late for dinner. On pot roast night. Worse, I was going to miss that upside down cake my mother was making. My cell phone, naturally, was in my bag, which, of course, was in my truck.  
  
"I don't suppose you'd let me call my fiancé?"  
  
Dreadlocks gestured magnanimously. "Go right ahead, darling, but being as we're miles away from land and there wasn't anybody on that raft with ye, I don't think he's going to answer."  
  
"Raft? What raft? I was in a parking lot!"  
  
"You must have hit your head pretty hard, miss."  
  
"Plum. Stephanie Plum. And you are?"  
  
"Captain Jack Sparrow, at your service, darling." He took my hand and helped me to my feet. "Welcome aboard the Black Pearl."  
  
I guess he was expecting some kind of reaction other than my confused stare.  
  
"Surely you've heard of it."  
  
I shook my head.  
  
"Fiercest pirate ship in the Caribbean."  
  
"I'm in the Caribbean?!"  
  
Now it was his turn to look confused. "Aye, that you are. Where did ye think you were?"  
  
"Trenton." He still looked confused, so I added, "New Jersey."  
  
"Never heard of it. Jersey, I know well, back in bonny ol' England."  
  
"Well, if you can just drop me off at the nearest Holiday Inn or Hilton, I'd really appreciate it." Hey, a little Caribbean holiday wouldn't be a bad thing. I could wire Morelli for the money and get a tan while waiting....  
  
The 'pirate' was looking at me as if I had a few screws loose. "This is a pirate ship, not a pleasure boat."  
  
"Oh, come on, the only pirates are in Pittsburgh."  
  
"Pitts-what?"  
  
As we stood there staring at each other, it occurred to me that I didn't hear an engine. I looked around. I didn't see any sign of an engine, either. Groaning loudly, the awful truth hit me. I wasn't in Jersey anymore.  
  
***************************  
  
"You can rest here," Sparrow was telling me, as he guided me into one of the cabins. "Too much sun for a girl of your delicate sensibilities, most likely...."  
  
I rolled my eyes at him but thought better of mentioning that I was a bounty hunter. Instead, I said simply, "I'm from the Burg. We're not exactly a bunch of trembling daisies."  
  
"Of course not."  
  
Great. I was being patronized by my hallucination. Yeah, that was probably it, this was a great big hallucination. I'd probably been hit with a fender or a tire and been knocked unconscious. Morelli was probably whispering this in my ear, out of spite.  
  
Still, Sparrow was a pretty interesting hallucination. Lack of personal hygiene aside, he had sexy dark eyes, a nice, lean body and a really great ass. I poked him with a finger and wasn't really surprised that he was solid to the touch.  
  
"What are you doing?"  
  
"So, how's Diesel?"  
  
"Who?"  
  
"You know, the Spirit of Friggin' Christmas. Visited me in my apartment last year. Helped me catch Sandy Claws. Come on, you don't expect me to believe I was blown through time into the 1800s, do you?"  
  
"It's 1689, pet."  
  
"History wasn't one of my better subjects." I shrugged. "Are there doughnuts in 1689?"  
  
His eyes grew even wider at that and his mouth worked but no words came out.  
  
"I guess not. What about cake? Cake would definitely help me think."  
  
Sparrow backed slowly to the door. "I'll see what I can rustle up from the galley."  
  
With that he bolted out of the cabin and I could hear him lock the door behind him.  
  
Well, at least maybe I'd get some cake. 


	2. All I Got Was A Rock

I was no stranger to being locked in. Hell, I'd even been handcuffed to my own shower curtain rod. Naked. And I had to call Ranger to unlock the cuffs. So being locked in a cabin on a pirate ship wasn't nearly as bad as that. Or at least so I told myself as began rifling through dresser drawers.  
  
In short order, I learned some very important things. One, the cabin belonged to Sparrow. Two, Sparrow's taste in clothes was pretty flamboyant. Three, he had a gun collection. Normally, I hate guns and prefer to keep mine in my teddy bear cookie jar, but these were interesting.  
  
"If you're planning on shooting me, you should know the guns aren't loaded, love."  
  
Sparrow's voice startled me into dropping the gun I was fiddling with onto my foot. Fortunately, I was wearing my Cat boots with the Vibram soles, so it didn't hurt nearly as badly as it could have.  
  
Our heads collided as we both bent to retrieve the gun. And then our fingers touched as we ignored the thumping of our noggins and concentrated on grabbing the gun.  
  
Sparrow got it first. He backed away and tucked it into his sash. "What do you have to say for yourself, missy?"  
  
"You've got a hard head under all that hair."  
  
"Ye went through my things!"  
  
"Not all of them. Just your clothes and your guns." I picked up another one and aimed it at one of his knick-knacks.  
  
"Be careful with that!"  
  
"You just told me it's not loaded."  
  
He sighed loudly and then changed the subject. "I brought you food."  
  
Those were the magic words. I put the gun back in the drawer where I found it and turned to see what he brought. It wasn't anything I recognized. "What the hell is that?"  
  
"Hardtack."  
  
"Hardwhat?" I picked up one of the grayish brown lumps. "You're supposed to eat this? It looks like a rock."  
  
Sparrow was beginning to look pained. "You're insulting my hospitality."  
  
"I'm supposed to thank you for bringing me a moldy roll?"  
  
"Maybe you'd prefer it in the brig instead of my quarters."  
  
"Brig?" Wasn't that where they put the bad guys on Star Trek?  
  
"Aye, lass, the brig. Way down there, below decks."  
  
Below decks? With the rats, probably. "Thanks for the rocks."  
  
"Ye're welcome." Sparrow regarded me through narrowed kohl-lined eyes, his gaze sweeping up and down my body.  
  
I looked down at myself. Probably, cargo pants hadn't been invented yet. And it was a good bet that the black stretchy top I was wearing with my black cargo pants wasn't exactly at the height of fashion in 1689, either. Still, Sparrow looked like a reject from an Errol Flynn movie, except for the dreads, which would have put him circa Milli Vanilli.  
  
We stared at each other for quite a while.  
  
It occurred to me that his eyes were a lot like Morelli's – a deep chocolate brown. He was lean and muscular, like Morelli. Yeah, I was missing Morelli. Bad. But Sparrow wasn't a bad hallucination. If he cleaned himself up a little, I might even be wondering whether it would be cheating to have sex with a hallucination. Probably it would be.  
  
We continued staring at each other.  
  
Sparrow moved closer and reached over to brush a strand of hair from my face. He was stopped short by a knock at the door and a shout.  
  
"Cap'n. We've got company!"  
  
Flashing me a very Morelli-like grin, Sparrow tipped his hat in my direction. "Sorry, love, duty calls."  
  
"But –"  
  
"Behave yourself." He tossed me one of those hardtack things and dashed out.  
  
I was beginning to feel like Charlie Brown on Halloween. Everyone else got the candy and old Stephanie got a rock. 


	3. Badass

The duty that called Sparrow sounded suspiciously like World War III. Or maybe the prequel to World War I, since this was supposed to be the doughnut-and-cake-less-1689. There were several loud explosions and angry shouts that I couldn't make out over the explosions.  
  
Finally, I could understand one of the shouts. It sounded suspiciously like 'prepare to be boarded.' This was followed by more shouting.  
  
I had two choices. I could stay in Sparrow's cabin and break my teeth on the hardtack or I could borrow one of Sparrow's guns and take a little look- see. Assuming I could pick the lock on his door. That was a pretty big if. Ranger was still teaching me the finer points of breaking and entering.  
  
I wasted maybe a minute picking a gun. They all looked pretty much the same. Single shot that had to be front-loaded with gunpowder, if I remembered my movie-of-the-week properly. I didn't see any gunpowder lying around Sparrow's cabin, though, so I was stuck with an unloaded gun. Fine with me, since I hate guns.  
  
Bracing myself, I reached for the door and discovered that, in his haste, Sparrow forgot to lock it. What a relief. Opening the door a crack, I peered out. Nobody seemed to be home. Creeping forward, I discovered they were visiting the boat next door. Since that was where all the action was, I decided to go for a visit, too.  
  
Sparrow seemed to be posing, one hand on his hip, the other gripping a wicked-looking sword, while he watched his crew tie up the people from the other ship. It would have been impressive if there weren't a big, burly guy sneaking up on him from behind.  
  
Now, if Ranger were here, he would've snuck up behind Burly and knocked him out cold. But Ranger wasn't here, so it was up to me. Sucking in a deep breath, I channeled my inner bad-ass bounty hunter.  
  
"Freeze! Bail enforcement agent! Drop the weapon! NOW!"  
  
Burly turned his head in my direction, looked me over and guffawed loudly. "Poppet, you ain't got the guts to shoot me."  
  
"Y'know, that's exactly what the last guy I shot said to me. Right before I shot him."  
  
"You stupid bint! Put down the gun afore'n I hurt you!"  
  
Bint? Did he just call me a bint? What the hell was a bint? Whatever it was, I figured I was supposed to be insulted. So I did the only thing I could. I threw the gun at him.  
  
Burly howled in pain as the gun struck him right in the face. I hurled myself at him, using whatever moves I managed to pick up from Ranger. Wrestling Burly to the ground, I remembered something important. I didn't have my handcuffs. They were in my handbag, with my cell phone, in my truck. In the real world. "A little help here!"  
  
A sword-point materialized by Burly's throat. "Will this do, love?"  
  
Sparrow. Smirking at me.  
  
A pair of hands hauled me off of Burly and onto my feet. It was a female pirate and she gave me a friendly punch in the arm before bending down to hog-tie Burly. "Nice work, girl."  
  
"Thanks." Ow, that hurt.  
  
"Aye," Sparrow agreed, circling me. "Very interesting technique, throwing a gun, instead of firing it."  
  
"I would've thrown one of those hardtack things, but that would've killed him."  
  
He flashed a gold-toothed grin at me. "So."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"I suppose you're thinking that little stunt entitles you to a share of the booty, eh?"  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"This is a nice, fat British lady. No doubt there'll be a pretty new frock for you below."  
  
"Say what?"  
  
"Alright, pet, don't pout so. Two dresses, but that's it."  
  
"Two dresses," I repeated, incredulously. "Are you telling me you're robbing this boat?"  
  
"Pirate."  
  
"Oh, that explains everything," I snorted, rolling my eyes. Wait a second. "You fired on them first?!"  
  
Now it was Sparrow's turn to roll his eyes. "That's what pirates do, love. We rifle and loot and don't give a hoot and such like."  
  
"That's illegal!" Mental head slap. "I'm an accessory to a piracy!"  
  
"I thought you were a bail enforcement agent. What is that anyway?"  
  
"That," I said, slowly, "is a bounty hunter."  
  
Sparrow looked at me for a long moment and then burst into laughter.  
  
***************************  
  
Me and my big mouth.  
  
"You're a bounty hunter." Sparrow snorted again and held out both his wrists. "Well, go ahead then, darling. Take me."  
  
This, naturally, earned hearty laughter from the rest of Sparrow's crew.  
  
There was only so far you could push a girl from the Burg. I shot him an appraising look. "You don't look like you're worth all that much."  
  
He clapped a hand to his chest. "Ah, darling, you wound me with your sarcasm."  
  
"Girl," interjected one of the crew, an older, heavyset man with muttonchops that Elvis would have been envious of, "that there's Cap'n Jack Sparrow, savvy?"  
  
I arched an eyebrow. "And that means what exactly? You think you're some kind of badass?"  
  
"Badass," Sparrow repeated, testing out the word. "Aye, that I am, missy. A great, big badass. Shall I show ye why?" 


	4. Return of Big Blue

Maybe it should've dawned on me sooner that it wasn't smart to play 'who's the bigger badass' with a self-proclaimed pirate in front of his crew. Probably, that would have saved me the humiliation of being tied up and slung over Sparrow's shoulder and carried back to his cabin.  
  
He dumped me unceremoniously on his bed and cocked his head, studying me.  
  
I stared back, thinking that this hallucination was really starting to get on my nerves. At least there weren't any dead bodies jumping out at me. But then again, there was no Pino's Pizza, either, and I was hungry.  
  
Sparrow took off his hat and dropped into one of the chairs, spinning it lazily, so he could look at me. "So, love? What does the great bounty hunter have to say for herself?"  
  
"Is it time for dinner yet?"  
  
He chuckled softly. "You're all tied up and at my mercy and you're thinking of dinner?"  
  
"Where I come from, dinner's the most important meal of the day."  
  
"And that's New Jersey, as opposed to the old one in England, yes?"  
  
In response, I rolled my eyes.  
  
"And in New Jersey, women dress as men and are bounty hunters."  
  
"Some of them. Others work in the button factory."  
  
"But not you."  
  
"I used to be a lingerie buyer for EE Martin, but they went out of business. It was a choice between the button factory, the tampon factory or working for my cousin, Vinnie."  
  
"As a bounty hunter."  
  
At least he didn't ask what a tampon was. "Bail enforcement agent."  
  
"And your cousin thought this was a good idea?"  
  
"Not immediately, but I threatened to tell his wife about the perverted thing he did with that duck and he saw things my way."  
  
Sparrow raised an eyebrow. "Blackmail. Excellent. There's a bit of pirate in you, darling."  
  
No doubt Sparrow wanted a few more inches of pirate in me. "Blackmail, shmackmail, it's not exactly a glamour job. I've been stalked by crazy boxers, had more cars blown up than I can count and seen more dead bodies than I care to remember. The only one who really approves of my career choice is my Grandma Mazur."  
  
"Then why do it? Why not just get married and live a simpler life?"  
  
I shuddered at the thought. "Oh, now there's an idea. My sister, Valerie, tried that and now she's divorced, living back home with my parents and trying to be like me. One of her kids thinks she's a horse."  
  
"Sounds like a lovely family. I can see why you'd flee."  
  
"I didn't flee! I'm here by accident. What? You think I'd actually want to be – what year did you say this is?"  
  
"1689."  
  
"1689," I repeated. "Why would I want to be in 1689? There are no doughnuts in 1689! This is some kind of torture!"  
  
There was a knock at the door and Sparrow beckoned in the guy with the muttonchops. "Yes, Gibbs?"  
  
"We found a few dresses what might fit the lady – er, bounty hunter, Cap'n." Gibbs laid a frighteningly large pile of fabric on the table next to Sparrow.  
  
"Thank you, Gibbs." Sparrow grinned at the man. "Our lovely guest is inquiring as to the status of dinner. Would you be so kind as to have it brought to us?"  
  
"Yes, Cap'n."  
  
Sparrow waited for the door to close and then flashed his grin at me. "All right then, love, since we have a bit of time, let's peruse these lovely dresses, shall we?"  
  
I almost told him that I didn't shave my legs this morning, when I remembered that the whole leg-shaving thing started in the Roaring Twenties and that in 1689, ankles were considered scandalous.  
  
He held up a poufy peach number. "No, not your color."  
  
Thank god. I was having flashbacks to my prom. Next was something big and blue that bore an uncanny resemblance to my Uncle Sandor's Buick.  
  
"Yes," Sparrow beamed. "This is it. Looks lovely with your bonny blue eyes."  
  
"You can't be serious."  
  
"Absolutely," he said, cheerfully oblivious to my reaction, "this is the one. I'm going to untie you and you can go behind that screen and put it on."  
  
"Can't you just leave me tied up?"  
  
A/N  
  
Thanks for all of the feedback. This wasn't really supposed to be more than a one-shot deal, but then I found myself wanting to play with some of the Stephanie Plum plot staples, from the whole 'badass' thing to Big Blue. I'm still pondering whether I can work Joyce Barnhardt into this....  
  
I'm really glad so many of you are enjoying this. Doughnut, anyone? 


	5. Duty Calls Again

"How's it coming along there, darling?"  
  
I would've thrown the dress at him if it didn't weigh about 50 pounds on its own. Instead, I stepped out from behind the screen and tried to look sad. "Too small. Sorry. I guess maybe I should start working out more."  
  
"You didn't even try it, did you," Sparrow asked, lifting the dress.  
  
God, he sounded like my mother. "Well, look at it! Would you want to wear that?!"  
  
"Me? No, but since this is my ship and you're my special guest, I suggest you try again."  
  
"Or what? You'll make me walk the plank?"  
  
"I've been known to do that on occasion." He smirked and pressed the dress back into my hands. "The nearest land is miles and miles away. How's your swimming?"  
  
It wasn't good enough for miles and miles. Okay, it wasn't really good enough for anything. If I went to the Jersey Shore, mostly, I'd hide and pray not to have to go in the water so nobody would see me in my swim suit. "Are there sharks in the water?"  
  
"Aye. Big ones. Man-eaters."  
  
Miles and miles away from land and vicious man-eating sharks. The dress wasn't that bad. Maybe. "What about that brig thing? Can I do that instead?"  
  
"This isn't a negotiation, love."  
  
Groaning, I stepped back behind the screen and started undressing. And then came the task of figuring out how to put the damned thing on. Give me something with zippers or a healthy dose of Spandex any day!  
  
"Well?"  
  
"I can't get the back closed."  
  
"That's alright, pet. I'll help ye with that. Come, come, darling, don't be shy."  
  
Stomping out from behind the screen, I shoved past him to his full-length mirror. Vanity thy name is Sparrow. "Oh, dear God!"  
  
He came up behind me and began fiddling with the laces of the dress. "Take a deep breath, love."  
  
I assumed that was to prevent me from vomiting at the sight of myself in the dress, so I did it. Big mistake. Sparrow gave a mighty tug on the laces and the damned thing constricted painfully. "Can't breathe...."  
  
"Don't be so melodramatic." He rested his hands lightly on my shoulders and spoke softly in my ear. "You look lovely."  
  
"I look like my Uncle Sandor's Buick." I spun around and poked a finger in his chest, and hoped I was menacing enough in all this lace, ruffles and assorted frou-frou. "Don't even think about calling me Big Blue!"  
  
Grabbing my shoulders, he spun me back to the mirror. "Look at yourself."  
  
"Do I have to?" Okay, so I didn't need a push-up bra, thanks to the dress's whalebone construction, and the massive skirt hid my ass, hips and thighs, but still... I had the sneaking suspicion that somewhere, Morelli was laughing his ass off. "Can I take it off now?"  
  
Sparrow shook his head.  
  
"But why," I whined.  
  
"Because I said so."  
  
Just then there was a knock at the door and then a skinny boy came in bearing a very large tray. "Evenin', Cap'n, ma'am."  
  
The kid didn't look old enough for high school, let alone bussing tables on a pirate ship. I turned to Sparrow. "Is he old enough to be working here?"  
  
"He's older than I was when I started," Sparrow shrugged, watching the boy leave. "He's a good lad, that one. He'll make a fine pirate."  
  
"Maybe he should have the chance to be something safer."  
  
"Like a bounty hunter, perhaps?"  
  
"What about a doctor? Or a teacher?"  
  
Sparrow rolled his eyes. "His father was a carpenter and he was to be a carpenter, as well, 'til he came to me."  
  
"You could've said no and sent him back home where he belonged."  
  
"To be a carpenter?" Sparrow mock-shuddered at the thought. "Heaven forbid. He wanted to sail, to be free."  
  
"You call this freedom?"  
  
"Aye. I go where I please, do as I please –"  
  
"As long as you don't get caught."  
  
"The Black Pearl is nigh uncatchable." He held up his hands mockingly. "Oh wait, you caught me, didn't you? Whatever will ye do with me, missy?"  
  
I rolled my eyes at him, and made my way over to the table to inspect dinner. "Hey, it's chicken!"  
  
"If it's more hardtack you want, I can arrange that."  
  
That earned him another eye roll.  
  
Ignoring me, he produced a bottle of wine and two goblets from one of the cupboards on the wall. "Shall we?"  
  
"I can't."  
  
"Why not? I thought you were hungry."  
  
"If I eat too much, this dress is going to explode."  
  
******************************************************  
  
I had to admit, Sparrow had a pretty decent cook somewhere on board. And the wine, while stronger than anything I was used to, was great. It wasn't my mother's pot roast, and there wasn't any upside-down cake, but it was better than my own cooking, which usually involved the telephone and a take- out menu.  
  
Sometime during the meal, Sparrow took pity on my gasping and wheezing and loosened the dress. It was almost bearable, except for the itchy, heavy fabric that didn't let me move freely.  
  
"Stop scratching," he told me for the umpteenth time.  
  
"This thing itches. And the fabric doesn't breathe. I'm sweating like a pig under here."  
  
He shot me the same 'why can't you act like a girl' look that Morelli and my mother frequently used.  
  
"It's not my fault this dress wasn't made for hot Caribbean nights." I risked another look at myself. Nope. Still awful. "I can see why this style isn't popular anymore."  
  
"Are ye telling me that those strange black breeches are all the rage back home in New Jersey?"  
  
"As a matter of fact, yes, they are. And they're called cargo pants on account of you've got lots of pockets for stuff like...." I trailed off, suddenly remembering that while my purse, cell phone and handcuffs were in my truck, in the future, I had my keys and more importantly, my pepper spray.  
  
"Like what?"  
  
"Feminine stuff. Nothing you'd care to hear about."  
  
"And that little black shirt that folds up to the size of a handkerchief? What do they call that?"  
  
Men I knew referred to them as 'titty shirts' but that didn't seem like the thing to tell Sparrow. "Stretchy top. Nothing fancy, there."  
  
His gaze rested on my chest, which was pushed up beyond belief by the dress. "I would disagree with that, love."  
  
Rolling my eyes, it occurred to me that while being called 'love', 'pet' and 'darling' was all well and good, I missed Morelli calling me 'cupcake'.  
  
Sparrow was beside me in a flash, cupping my chin in his hand. "You're not going to cry, are you?"  
  
"What?!" I got to my feet and glared at him, which probably wasn't nearly as effective as it could have been considering I was wearing a Buick.  
  
"You looked so sad, love."  
  
Before I could come up with a suitable insult, the ship pitched and I fell onto Sparrow, toppling us both to the floor.  
  
He looked up at me and chuckled softly. "My, aren't you the bold one!"  
  
"That wasn't me! That was the turbulence!"  
  
"The what?"  
  
Oh. Right. Turbulence was for planes. Mental head slap. So what was the right word? While I pondered this, Sparrow's hands traced patterns on my back. It felt pretty nice, actually. No. Wait. I was engaged. To Morelli. In the real world. But this was just a hallucination. Right? And from what I could tell through the miles of fabric separating us, Sparrow's long-sword was pretty impressive for a hallucination.  
  
One of Sparrow's hands reached up to the back of my neck and pulled me down to him.  
  
Okay, one little kiss wouldn't hurt anything. Besides, Sparrow was a hallucination. I was pretty sure kissing a hallucination wouldn't be cheating.  
  
Wow. Sparrow could kiss. He was definitely in the same league as Morelli and Ranger.  
  
If kissing a hallucination wasn't cheating, and I was pretty sure it wasn't, would an orgasm from a hallucination be cheating? Put that way, I really didn't think so.  
  
"Prepare to be boarded, love," Sparrow murmured.  
  
****************************  
  
My hallucinatory sex life seemed destined to be as pathetic as my real one.  
  
We'd gotten as far as getting Sparrow's shirt off, me still in the Buick dress, when – you guessed it – there was a knock at his door.  
  
"Cap'n! Come quick! Callinan's dead!"  
  
Sparrow eyed me regretfully as he lifted me off of him and slipped back into his shirt. "Sorry, pet ---"  
  
"Yeah, yeah, duty calls." And then I realized why he was leaving. "Wait."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Let me come with you."  
  
"Absolutely not!"  
  
"I've seen my share of dead bodies. Hell, I found one on my living room couch, once. This is something I can help you with."  
  
I could tell he was still trying to wrap his mind around the thought of a dead body on my couch when he sighed. "All right, all right. You can come, but remember, missy, this is my ship, savvy?"  
  
"Capisce."  
  
"Then we have an accord, darling."  
  
And I could tell it was going to be a long night.  
  
More author's notes:  
  
Can you tell I'm still having fun with this? And I'm so glad that so many of you are, too. I really appreciate the feedback and suggestions. Hopefully, this will tide us over until Stephanie Plum #10 comes out this summer.  
  
By the way, this is the first Plum fanfic I've ever done, so many, many thanks to those who tell me I've got the voice down. You made my day. 


	6. The Plot Thickens

There was no doubt about what killed the crewman. The knife was still protruding from his chest.  
  
"Was he the ship's cook," I asked.  
  
Sparrow wheeled around and glared at me. "In case the pots and pans weren't a big enough hint for ye, yeah, this is the galley and that's the man who cooked your dinner."  
  
I nudged Sparrow aside to get a better look. Not that I could tell much more than somebody took a large carving knife and rammed it into the cook's chest. I glanced back at the rest of the crew, clustered in the doorway. "Who found him?"  
  
"That'd be me," answered a balding pirate, who had a mouth like a Jack-o- Lantern. "Cyrus Dobbins, miss."  
  
Sparrow shot a look at Dobbins and then at me. "This is my ship. I'll ask the questions."  
  
I waited.  
  
He was silent. Finally, he gestured and when he spoke, his tone was gentler. "All right, go ahead, love."  
  
"Dobbins, did you move anything?"  
  
"Just Cal, to see if he was still alive."  
  
"So he was face-down."  
  
"Yes, miss."  
  
"Any idea who the last person to see him alive was?" Morelli would have been so much better at this. At any rate, asking questions took my mind off the large amounts of blood on the floor. When nobody answered, I looked up at Sparrow. "Who gets fed first, you or the crew?"  
  
"I do, pet. Captain's privileges."  
  
"And did the rest of you eat?"  
  
There were murmurs and nods before Gibbs stepped in. "Jack, I can't say as I agree with this. It's powerful bad luck to have a woman on board and this one thinks she's bounty hunter. And ye're letting her play about with a dead man who isn't even cold."  
  
Women on ships were bad luck? Maybe that explained my lack of an orgasm – I was my own worst enemy. And then I realized that Gibbs actually said something important. I reached out and touched the body, ignoring the ick factor. "He's still warm. This didn't happen too long ago."  
  
Sparrow crouched next to me and touched the dead man, confirming my opinion. "She's right."  
  
What else would Morelli do? I knew what I would do. Snoop through the dead man's things to look for a motive.  
  
Before I could open my mouth, Sparrow stood up and dragged me up with him. "All right, ye bloody scoundrels. I'd prefer to think I don't have a murderer on board, so I'm going to work with the idea that one of the crew from the Houghton sneaked on board. Gibbs! Ana! Form search parties and scour the ship from stem to stern. Barnhardt, help me with Callinan. We're going to give the man a decent burial at sea."  
  
Barnhardt? No. It couldn't be. The man who stepped forward bore an uncanny resemblance to Joyce Barnhardt, my archenemy. My mouth dropped open and I was pretty sure I made a weird noise because Sparrow was looking at me funny.  
  
"Everything all right, love?"  
  
I pointed at Barnhardt. "You have sister named Joyce, don't you?"  
  
The man turned bright red and when he spoke, it was in a thick brogue. "I'm Joyce Barnhardt, miss. Do I know you?"  
  
"Not unless you slept with my ex-husband," I mumbled, turning a shade of red that matched his.  
  
Sparrow ducked down so that he could look me in the eyes. "Are you all right there, Stephanie Plum?"  
  
"Uh, fine. Fine. Say, uh, Jack?"  
  
"Yes, love?"  
  
"Where was Callinan's room?"  
  
"The crew's barracks is below." He eyed me suspiciously now. "You are not to go there by yourself, savvy?"  
  
"Okay."  
  
"Good."  
  
Right. I was a badass bounty hunter wearing a Buick. What could possibly happen?  
  
More author's notes: Is it me, or are things starting to get interesting? Well, more interesting anyway. My continued thanks to everyone who's been reading, laughing and enjoying this story, which as I mentioned, wasn't supposed to be a story at all. I appreciate all of your kind feedback. 


	7. Dangling Doodles

I never realized how much I took things like electricity and windows for granted until I went to find the crew's barracks. Of course, it might have been easier to go down the stairs if I didn't have the Buick dress blocking my view of my feet. Or what little view there was, since I didn't think to bring a candle with me.  
  
This was hindsight, of course. I was on my ass, tangled up in the dress and trying to figure out how to get back on my feet.  
  
"Need some help there, poppet?" Two hands reached me only a millisecond before my helper's intense body odor did. He propped me back on my feet again. "Better?"  
  
"Thanks." And look at that. He brought a candle.  
  
Stinky grinned at me. Apparently, dentistry was also a modern marvel that I took for granted. "What'cha doin' down here all by your onesies?"  
  
"I was looking for the crew's barracks."  
  
"Coming to visit us, she was, Stark." Another pirate came up behind Stinky. This one had an impressive potbelly. "Looking for a real man or two, weren't ya?"  
  
"Three, more like." And here came another one. "Hullo, pet."  
  
I took a step back. "So. Were any of you friendly with Callinan?"  
  
"Why? Was ye thinkin' of comfortin' us in our grief," asked Potbelly.  
  
I ignored the sniggering and tried again. "Did he have any friends on board? Any enemies?"  
  
Potbelly mock-sniffled loudly. "He was me best mate, 'e was. Whyn't you hold me to your bosom and comfort me good?"  
  
"I got somethin' here she can hold," Stinky added.  
  
I knew before I looked that he was waggling his wonkie at me. It was a trend. Everyone from flashers to the nicest guy in the Burg felt compelled to show me his equipment. Even though I had a pretty good idea of what I was going to see, I looked anyway. "Kinda small, isn't it?"  
  
Probably that was the wrong thing to say.  
  
Stinky smacked me across the face. And since I was wearing the stupid dress, I lost my balance and fell onto my ass. Again. Lucky for me I was wearing my Cat boots, because I kicked Stinky right in his exposed package before he could do anything else.  
  
Stinky hit a high C.  
  
Potbelly loomed over me now. "That weren't very nice, love. I think we better teach you some manners."  
  
"What the blazes is going on?!" Sparrow's voice. He must have been right behind Potbelly.  
  
Potbelly backed away a step, which was enough room for Sparrow to punch him full in the face.  
  
I used the opportunity to scramble to my feet. I grabbed Stinky by his shirt and rammed the heel of my hand into his nose, just like Ranger taught me. The sound of crunching bone told me I did it right. "Next time you feel like showing off your pathetic, little doodle, remember me."  
  
"Oi! By dose! Ye broke by bleebin' dose!"  
  
Sparrow was staring at me. "He showed you his what?"  
  
I pointed to Stinky's limp little unit.  
  
"Oh." He looked back at me again and back at the three goons. "Mates, you're all going to be pulling extra duties. And I expect that the three of you will watch over the lady for the rest of the voyage to make sure there are no similar incidents, understood?"  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"Aye, sir."  
  
"By dose!"  
  
****************************************************  
  
Sparrow didn't say a word to me on the way back to his cabin. He guided me inside, pushed me into a chair and reached into a cabinet. It was only after he poured himself a drink and drained the cup that he gave me his undivided attention.  
  
"So."  
  
Oh boy, he didn't look happy.  
  
"Have ye figured out why wanderin' around by your onesies on a pirate ship ain't a good idea?"  
  
"I was trying ---"  
  
"You were out of my sight. Think, for God's sake! These men have been at sea for months and here you are, prancin' around in that dress –"  
  
"Prancing? I can't even walk in the stupid thing without falling on my ass!" I grabbed his cup and poured myself a drink. Whatever it was, it smelled pretty foul, but I took a healthy slug of it anyway. My eyes watered and I began to cough. "What is that?"  
  
"'s rum, love."  
  
Bacardi it wasn't. I took another sip anyway. "How come that pirate chick can wander around by her onesies and I can't?"  
  
"Because she's a pirate...chick."  
  
Oh great. Now we were swapping slang. "And I'm a bounty hunter."  
  
"Oh yes, a real, what was the word, badass, aren't ye?" He folded his arms over his chest and shook his head at me. "You're not to do anything like that again, savvy?"  
  
"I was trying to help."  
  
"By doing what exactly?"  
  
"I was going to look through Callinan's stuff and see if anything was missing."  
  
Sparrow looked at me as if I were a few doughnuts short of a dozen. "If ye've never met the man, how would ye know?"  
  
"If somebody tossed his stuff, it would be pretty obvious," I guessed. "Maybe he had something somebody else wanted or he knew something he shouldn't have –"  
  
"Or maybe it's like I said and we've got a stowaway."  
  
"Wouldn't your crew have found him by now?"  
  
"It's a big ship, love, with lots of places to hide."  
  
"That's reassuring."  
  
"I'll protect ye, pet. Just don't do anything stupid and you'll be fine." He leaned down and looked into my eyes. "No more wandering around by yourself."  
  
"If I weren't wearing this stupid dress, I would've been able to handle Stinky and his friends just fine!"  
  
"Do tell."  
  
"I'm a bounty hunter, Sparrow! I can handle myself." Sometimes.  
  
"That's Captain Sparrow. Captain! And don't ye dare roll yer eyes at me!"  
  
Wow. He got me before I could roll my eyes. This guy was good!  
  
"Now," he said, eyeing me carefully, "I don't have any cake, but I think I have something that should satisfy you."  
  
Yeah, he was definitely good. 


	8. Just Another Day at the Office

"Oh my god," I breathed. "That was the best I've ever had."  
  
"I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, savvy? Expect nothing less."  
  
I reached for another piece of chocolate, but he slapped my hand gently. "Hey!"  
  
"I've a feeling we'll need this again soon. Best not to use it all at once."  
  
Sighing, I had to agree with him. "I feel better already."  
  
"Aye, me too."  
  
We eyed each other cautiously.  
  
"More rum, love?"  
  
"Rum's not really my thing," I admitted. "But I do admit, it goes better with chocolate than beer."  
  
There was a knock at the door and Gibbs let himself in, Anamaria trailing behind.  
  
"We've searched every nook an' cranny, Jack," she said. "Nothing."  
  
"Inside job, Sparrow. I told you so."  
  
He shot me a look.  
  
"Captain. Captain Sparrow, alright? Jeez."  
  
"She's right," Gibbs put in. "We've got us a killer on board."  
  
"I hate when that happens," Anamaria sighed. "Bloody pain in the arse when they do that. I s'pose it were over somethin' stupid, like a game of cards or a Tortuga whore."  
  
When all heads turned in my direction, I realized it was probably because I made a funny noise. I seemed to be doing that a lot lately. "What?"  
  
Sparrow patted my hand. "There, there, love."  
  
"Don't patronize me, Sparrow –"  
  
"Captain!"  
  
"Captain Jackass." I got to my feet, which was quite a task considering I was pretty drunk and the dress was so friggin' heavy. "Am I hearing this right? Your staff kills each other for kicks? Just another day at the office?!"  
  
"First of all," he said, getting to his feet and advancing towards me. "They're a crew, not a staff. This is a ship, not a boat. Not an office. And yes. Sometimes they kill each other. We're bloody pirates!"  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Oh," he echoed. "Is that all you have to say?"  
  
It turned out that it was.  
  
************************  
  
"It was an accident. I didn't mean to puke on you." If I had any idea I was going to puke, I would have made sure to do it on the dress. But no, the dress had escaped completely unscathed. Figured.  
  
He shot me a look. "Disaster just follows you around like a puppy, doesn't it?"  
  
"Things happen."  
  
"I'm sure." He shot me another look. "Somebody was actually foolhardy enough to propose to you?"  
  
Now it was my turn to glare. "Twice."  
  
"Twice?"  
  
"Can we not discuss Morelli, please?"  
  
"Morelli. Does Morelli have a first name or do you disrespect him, too?"  
  
"It's Joe and I didn't disrespect you. I just called you Sparrow, which is your name, isn't it?"  
  
"Joe Morelli. Is he an upstanding gentleman back in New Jersey?"  
  
I snorted at this. "Morelli men are trouble. He's no exception, even if he is a cop."  
  
"A what?"  
  
"Police man."  
  
Sparrow did a double-take. "And he lets you wander about in men's clothing claiming to be a bounty hunter?"  
  
"Hey! I don't ask Morelli for permission on how to live my life. Besides, I happen to be a pretty damn good bounty hunter. I always get my man. Well, unless he's dead, which happened once or twice, but I brought the body in. They pay you for dead bodies, too, as long as you didn't kill them."  
  
Sparrow blinked at this, digested it and then asked, "And if he's foolish enough to actually marry you, are you going to give up being a bounty hunter?"  
  
"I am not discussing this with you!"  
  
"Ah. So he asked you to stop –"  
  
"That is none of your business!"  
  
"Probably not, but it's certainly interesting."  
  
"Are we going to sit here all night with you whining about me puking on you and discussing the men in my life or are we going to start investigating the murder?"  
  
"Men? There's more than one?"  
  
"Don't even go there, Sparrow!"  
  
"Captain, love. It's Captain, savvy?"  
  
Being from the Burg and being the offspring of Italian and Hungarian parents, I know quite a few rude hand gestures. I demonstrated one for Sparrow.  
  
"That's very unladylike, darling." And then he demonstrated one for me.  
  
It was one I hadn't seen before. And I'd seen quite a few. Probably, it wasn't obscene enough to make it to the obscene gesture library of the 21st century. Still, it was interesting.  
  
Sparrow was grinning now, pleased with himself. "Don't tell me I've managed to render you speechless?"  
  
"That'll be the day, Captain Crunch."  
  
"Captain what?"  
  
"One of the very scary pirates we have back in New Jersey."  
  
"Is that so?"  
  
"Damn skippy."  
  
He looked skeptical. "All right, pet. You win. Let's go investigate. But remember –"  
  
"Yeah, yeah. It's your ship. You're Captain Jack Sparrow. Anything else?"  
  
"Yeah," he said, imitating me. "Don't do anything stupid." 


	9. Treasure Hunt

"Well? Is anything missing?"  
  
"Clean underwear, for starters. Doesn't anybody on this boat bathe or do laundry?"  
  
"Ship, love. The Black Pearl is a ship."  
  
I rolled my eyes and held up a pair of pants so stiff that yes, they did stand up on their own. "Here. Go through the pockets and see if you find anything."  
  
"Afraid?"  
  
"Of a pair of pants? No. I just want my hands free to search through the rest of his stuff," I lied. Damn skippy, I was afraid. Who wouldn't be afraid of lice, crabs and other nasty things that were probably in those pants?  
  
Sparrow took the pants, held them upside down and shook them vigorously. Nothing fell out. He shook them again and something metallic clinked on the wooden floor.  
  
I leaned down to look, taking extra care not to trip over my skirts. Finally, I found it. It was a plain silver band. "This mean anything to you?"  
  
"Possibly a Mrs. Callinan, I'd say."  
  
"But he didn't want some floozy in a bar to know about it."  
  
"Bar?"  
  
"Tavern?"  
  
"Ah." Sparrow grinned at me. "Aye, though I've not seen a ring make much difference if a man or woman was aiming to have a bit o' fun."  
  
"Me, either."  
  
"Was that bitterness I heard, Stephanie Plum? Was there a Mister Plum before Morelli?"  
  
I'm sure I twitched, thinking about my ex-husband, Dickie Orr, the horse's patootie. I remembered the day I found him having sex on the dining room table with my archenemy, Joyce Barnhardt. I smiled sweetly at Sparrow and avoided the question. "Mister Plum is my father."  
  
"Ah."  
  
Ignoring him, I kept digging though Callinan's trunk. There wasn't much. A dagger, a spare shirt and a Bible. I flipped through the pages of the Bible, but nothing fell out. Then I turned my attention to the trunk itself, feeling for any hidden compartments.  
  
"Allow me, pet." Sparrow nudged me aside, poked at the lining on the top and revealed Callinan's hidey-hole. "Pirate instincts. They never fail to lead me to the treasure."  
  
"Yeah? So where is it?"  
  
"It's like you said, love. It's gone missing. Now all ye have to do is figure out what it was and who took it."  
  
Lucky me.  
  
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&  
  
A/N --- Wow! I can't believe all the positive feedback I'm getting on this. Thanks to all of you who've told me I've got Stephanie's voice down and that you like what I'm doing with Steph and Jack. blushing And special thanks to the alert reader who realized that the Buick dress, like the real Big Blue, is going to take a licking and keep on ticking. After all, what's a Plum adventure without an exploding car, Big Blue and somebody waggling their wonkie at Stephanie?  
  
A number of you have asked where I got the idea from. Brilliant? I don't know about that. Crazy? Probably. But having fun? Absolutely. Thanks for joining me on the ride. 


	10. Night and Day

"It's late," Sparrow yawned.  
  
I was pretty sure the yawn was fake, but it was late and I'd had a long day. I eyed the lone bed in Sparrow's cabin. "Dibs on the bed."  
  
"Dibs?"  
  
"Let me guess. No dibs in 1689."  
  
"Oh, no. We have dibs, but not on my bed, pet."  
  
"Captain's privilege?"  
  
"Aye. You catch on quickly." He winked at me. "I might be inclined to share, though."  
  
I raised an eyebrow. "Share?"  
  
Sparrow dropped down onto the bed and patted it. "Aye. Share. Plenty of room for two."  
  
"You've gotta be kidding. My Explorer blew up, I woke up on a pirate ship in 1689 for crying out loud. There are no doughnuts or French fries in 1689. I nearly got raped by three pirates who had six teeth between them and I puked on you. Not to mention the dead body. What makes you think I feel like fooling around?!"  
  
He gave me a wide-eyed innocent look. "My, you're presumptuous. I just offered you half the bed –"  
  
"Don't give me that! You're a pirate, as you keep reminding me." And then I added, just a bit snottily. "Savvy?"  
  
"Presumptuous, saucy and a badass." Sparrow clucked his tongue. "A pity, love, because that floor's not very comfortable."  
  
I looked down at the floor. No. It didn't look comfortable. I looked back at Sparrow and the bed.  
  
His grin grew even wider.  
  
"You try anything and they'll be calling you Captain Hook, but it won't be because you lost a hand."  
  
************************  
  
"Are ye plannin' on sleepin' all day?"  
  
I opened one eye the tiniest bit.  
  
"I know ye're awake. Get up. Jack's waitin' on ya." Anamaria yanked the covers off me. "He wants ya to wear that dress again."  
  
"Well, isn't that a shame, because it fell overboard when I tried to put it on so I had to wear my own clothes."  
  
She grinned at me. "Ye've got spunk, girl. I like that. Unfortunately, Jack knew ye'd say that, so he hid yer clothes and since he knows every inch o' this ship, it's not likely you'd find 'em any time soon."  
  
What a butthead! I sighed loudly and then caught sight of my hair in the mirror. Probably mousse and gel hadn't been invented in 1689. Anamaria used a do-rag to keep her hair in place. That gave me an idea.  
  
"Forget it," she told me, before I could even voice it. "He wants you looking like a girl, not a pirate."  
  
"I look like Buick in that thing."  
  
She shrugged. "I don't know what a Buick is, but yah, that dress is a big, blue monstrosity."  
  
We both looked at it.  
  
"Are you sure it can't accidentally fall overboard?" 


	11. The View

"Well, what have we here?" Sparrow grinned at me from behind the wheel of the ship. "A vision of loveliness in blue."  
  
"What did you do with my clothes, Sparrow?"  
  
"Captain, love."  
  
I rolled my eyes and tried again. "Where the hell are my clothes, dammit?"  
  
"They're safe. You wouldn't want some bloody pirate scamperin' off with your adorable little black corset-thing, would you?" Sparrow's grin grew even wider. "I've never seen anything quite like it, pet. Something from New Jersey?"  
  
Technically, that was true. Victoria's Secret at the Quaker Bridge Mall, to be exact. "I want my clothes."  
  
"We all want things, love. But we all have to face the reality of what we can and cannot have, savvy?" He tipped his stupid tricorner hat at me. "Besides, you look very fetching."  
  
"That's because I borrowed your eyeliner."  
  
Sparrow chuckled softly. "Come up here, pet. I want ye to see the view from the helm."  
  
"Wow."  
  
"The Pearl's beautiful, isn't she?'  
  
This was the first good look at the ship that I had since I woke up on its deck. The Black Pearl was every inch a storybook pirate ship, except for the black sails. "The black sails are very you."  
  
"Ever steer a ship, love?"  
  
Before I could answer, he guided me to the wheel and put my hands on it, covering them with his own. His body was very close behind mine.  
  
"Feel that?"  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"The sea." Sparrow chuckled softly and pressed my hands down and the wheel turned slightly. "And the movement of the ship. Ever feel anything like that?"  
  
The ship rocked gently and Sparrow was getting dangerously closer. "Maybe."  
  
Just as his lips touched the back of my neck, and my toes started to curl, the inevitable happened.  
  
"Cap'n! Come quick! Brown's dead."  
  
We both groaned.  
  
Sparrow sighed and looked down at me. "I'm starting to think Gibbs may have a point." 


	12. Bugger

"He's been dead for hours."  
  
Sparrow looked at me.  
  
"Rigor's come and gone." At his confused look, I added, "He's not stiff anymore."  
  
He stared even harder.  
  
I shrugged. "I've picked up a few things."  
  
"Aye, but ye probably don't know the business end of a broom, do you?"  
  
Rolling my eyes, I sighed, "Just be thankful he's not wearing a bunny suit."  
  
"I'm going to ignore that, lass."  
  
"Your loss. There's an interesting story behind it." I reached for one of the swords on the wall. The thing was heavier than it looked. "Was he supposed to be in here?"  
  
Sparrow took the sword from me. "I've a feeling your life is a series of interesting stories, love. And, no. Brown was supposed to be working the ropes. The armory is usually off-limits, unless we're about to fight."  
  
Looking around at all the swords, knives and other things I didn't recognize, it occurred to me that Ranger would have been right at home here. "So nobody would have any reason to be here?"  
  
He shook his head.  
  
"If the ship were co-ed, I'd figure maybe somebody was sneaking off to get some nookie –"  
  
"You lost me after the word 'ship', love."  
  
"I was saying that if there were women on board, I would guess that maybe they'd come here to fool around." And then it hit me. I looked down at Brown's body. Yeah, he was about my age and if he were cleaned up some, he'd be cute. "Any idea who his boyfriend was?"  
  
"I try not to get involved." He looked pained. "Gibbs might know."  
  
"I bet this was some kind of messed up love triangle." Lula would have had the exact soap opera reference. All I could think of was Will and Grace, but that didn't really apply. "If we can figure out who the third person is, I'll bet we'll have our killer."  
  
"What a disaster," Sparrow groaned.  
  
"Would you prefer it was over a game of cards or some – what was the other thing?"  
  
"Tortuga whore."  
  
"Yeah, that."  
  
"No."  
  
"Well, there you go."  
  
He stared at me again.  
  
"What?"  
  
"I wouldn't ordinarily admit this, but I do believe you frighten me, love."  
  
*****************************  
  
By the time Sparrow dumped the body overboard with a couple of Hail Marys, somebody had tossed Brown's stuff. There was no doubt about it. Brown's trunk was overturned and his clothes were scattered all over the crew's quarters.  
  
"You still think this is a lovers' quarrel," Sparrow asked me, righting the trunk and dumping the clothes back in.  
  
"The killer could be trying to throw us off."  
  
"Or there's something afoot that I need to be aware of."  
  
"Like what?"  
  
"Like a mutiny, Jack?" Anamaria came up behind us. "I've not heard anything, but ye never know."  
  
"Stephanie thinks it's some sort of lovers' spat."  
  
Anamaria looked at me and grinned. "So ye figured out about the buggerin' that goes on in the armory, did ye?"  
  
"I've heard things about sailors," I shrugged.  
  
Sparrow rolled his eyes. "She's full o' all kinds o' useful information."  
  
"If it was a mutiny, wouldn't they just kill you instead of each other?"  
  
Anamaria looked horrified and I wondered what I said until Sparrow opened his mouth.  
  
"In my limited experience, I was made to walk the plank and marooned."  
  
He looked so pissed off that I decided not to ask why. Instead, I stood there and tried to look innocent.  
  
"Ana, take Miss Plum back to my cabin, will you? I need to talk to Gibbs."  
  
It was going to be a long day.  
  
************************  
  
"Don't worry abou' Jack," Anamaria told me, as she walked me back to his cabin. "He's not mad at you. Likely he'll tell you the story himself when he's calmed down a bit."  
  
"Which will be how many years?"  
  
"Not that long." She punched me in the arm. "Wait until later. He's on night shift. While he's at the helm, you and I can do a little snoopin' around."  
  
"Won't he get mad at you?"  
  
"He doesn't want you wandering around by yer onesies, so you need me. And by then I'll have found yer clothes."  
  
"Like I said, won't he get mad at you?"  
  
"He's been mad at me before and look – I'm still alive." She snorted. "I can handle Jack."  
  
"But would you want to?"  
  
She punched me in the arm again. "Aye and so would you, considerin' the tomfoolery goin' on at the helm this morning. You could do much worse than Jack, girl."  
  
I thought of my ex-husband and realized she was right. Sparrow was no Morelli, but for 1689, he was pretty damn good. "I'm engaged."  
  
"Bah, marriage. Why would ye want to be tied to a home and screamin' little ones when ye could be havin' adventure? Isn't that why ye became a bounty hunter?"  
  
"Sort of." Not really, but that was the reason I hadn't given it up. And didn't want to.  
  
"There ye go. Now all we need to do is convince Jack to let me take you under my wing." She winked at me. "Ye'll love bein' a pirate."  
  
"I would?"  
  
"Aye. Besides, I think Jack would be disappointed if ye left."  
  
"He would?"  
  
"Haven't ye been payin' attention?"  
  
"I've been a little distracted by the dead bodies."  
  
She waved off my argument. "Bunch o' horny pirates buggerin' each other and one with a jealous temper. We'll find the culprit, Plum, believe me and we'll deal with 'im."  
  
That's what I was afraid of.  
  
*********************************  
  
A/N – Wow! I can't believe all the feedback I'm getting. My favorites are the ones from people who tell me that this shouldn't work – but it does. Thanks. I'm glad I could pull this off for you. For those of you who told me you haven't read the Stephanie Plum books, I highly recommend them. And for those of you who wish I could write faster (but I can't because I have to work), I've written some other stuff you might like. Visit my FF.net profile and click the link. Happy reading. 


	13. Busted

"This was the last thing I needed."  
  
Sparrow could have been talking about the fourth mug of rum he was drinking. Or he could have been echoing my sentiment about the stupid blue dress. Or that his friend, Gibbs, thought I was the cause of all of the problems.  
  
He could have been.  
  
But he wasn't.  
  
I was staying out of his way, busying myself with trying to look busy, since there was no TV in 1689 and it looked like it was going to be hours before he was on duty again. Looking busy gave way to me missing TV. Bad. I spent at least fifteen minutes wondering if hockey had been invented yet and whether it would be a good idea for me to 'invent' it if hadn't.  
  
And then I thought about pizza. And beer. Hockey always made me think about pizza and beer. And Morelli. Yeah, there was nothing like spending nights on the couch with Morelli, watching the game, eating a Pino's pizza and drinking beer. Followed by orgasms. Usually.  
  
Mental head slap. Here it was, not even noon, and I was thinking about pizza, beer and sex. In that order. Were my priorities screwed up or what? Judging by my luck so far, I wasn't going to get pizza, beer or sex any time in the near future, either.  
  
Sparrow was staring at me. "Did you say something?"  
  
"No." I hoped. God, please let me not have said anything. Or if I did, let it be hockey, pizza or beer and not ---  
  
"It sounded like sex."  
  
"Probably all that rum."  
  
"Must be." He took a long swallow of rum, licked his lips slowly and cocked his head in my direction. "So, what trouble are you and Ana planning to get into when I take the helm tonight?"  
  
"Us? Trouble?" I gave him my most innocent look. "We were going to give each other facials and talk about boys –"  
  
"You. Trouble." Sparrow caught my wrist and pulled me over to him. "I'm sure I've told you more than once not to do anything stupid, love."  
  
"You also told me to wear this dress!" I sniffed indignantly and hoped I could change the subject. "Look how well that advice turned out. I'm getting a heat rash someplace a girl shouldn't have one."  
  
"Maybe Ana can help you with it while you're giving each other facials and talking about boys." He pulled me closer. "Of course, it's going to be hard for her to give you a facial since you're going to be safely tucked away in the brig. For your own protection, ye know."  
  
"You wouldn't dare, Sparrow!"  
  
*****************************************  
  
Pirate.  
  
I was pretty sure Sparrow used that word to justify every sleazy thing he did. Then again, he was a pirate and he did things like burglarizing other boats and ravishing maidens and probably terrorizing Peter Pan or something like that.  
  
The jerk had the nerve to tell me that I should be happy he found the leak. He was even more of a jerk for not answering my question about the rats.  
  
As I sat there, thinking Sparrow was a big, stupid jerk and scratching because the darn dress itched, it occurred to me that it was still daylight and Ana wasn't going to get off duty for hours.  
  
God, I needed a Twinkie. 


	14. Babe

Picking a lock is not as easy as it looks in the movies.  
  
I knew this from experience, having been on the wrong end of my handcuffs more than once. On the other hand, picking a lock wasn't completely impossible. After all, when you had someone like Ranger to teach you the finer points of lock-picking, you had to learn something along the way.  
  
Right?  
  
Well, theoretically, at least.  
  
Reality was another story. I didn't have any lock picks to work with. Hair pins? Not on my worst hair day. So what did I have? A pair of dangly, chandelier earrings that were currently twisted up like a pretzel from trying to use them to pick the lock.  
  
It wasn't like the lock was a Rabson or some other super-sophisticated brand. In fact, this lock was pretty much like the ones Ranger had me practicing on that I could almost pick.  
  
Ranger.  
  
Ranger would have been out of this cell by now and probably eating a pizza. If he ate pizza. Which he didn't. Ranger ate healthy stuff, like salads and granola. He probably would have eaten the hardtack that was sitting on the floor of my cell.  
  
Another one of Sparrow's stupid jokes.  
  
And then I had an idea. I picked up the hardtack and began banging it against the door. The way I figured it, the hardtack was much harder than the lock. Or the steel bars.  
  
"Girl, that ain't gonna get you anywhere."  
  
I looked up.  
  
Anamaria was grinning at me and holding up an apple. "I brought ye some real food."  
  
I eyed the apple doubtfully. "Pork chops are real food. That's a snack."  
  
"Aye. Pork chops." She handed me the apple. "Been a while since I had pork chops."  
  
"My mother makes great pork chops. And she usually makes chocolate cake for dessert. You don't miss pork chop night in my house." I took a bite of the apple and sighed. "Are you getting me out of here or what?"  
  
"Ain't got the key."  
  
"So? You're a pirate. A cheap lock like this shouldn't be a problem for you."  
  
Her grin became even more devilish. "In truth, s'not. S'Jack, o' course. I could do 'er in me sleep."  
  
"Like I said, so?"  
  
"So Jack." She gave me a pointed stare. "We've got another coupl'a hours before he takes the helm."  
  
"I thought he took it already, if you're here."  
  
"I'm on a break. Can't very well pee over the railing like the boys, can I?"  
  
"No kidding."  
  
"I wish. Bloody buggers, whippin' out their willies an' whizzin' right in front of me. Enough to put me off men fer the rest o' me life." Ana shot me a warning stare. "Tha's a professional secret, mind. When I'm up there, nothin' bothers me, got it?"  
  
"Absolutely." And she wanted me to be a pirate?  
  
"Can I bring ye anythin' else?"  
  
"Lock pick?"  
  
She held up a slender piece of metal. "Ye didn't get this from me. Anyone asks me, official line is ye did this on yer own."  
  
"Got it."  
  
"Just stay out o' Jack's sight when ye get out."  
  
"In this dress?!"  
  
"'Course not. I left ye a change o' clothes by the stairs. See ya in a bit, Plum."  
  
She turned and headed towards the stairs. "Wait."  
  
"What?"  
  
"What if I can't pick this by myself?"  
  
"Come on, Plum. It's a piece o' chocolate cake. I can do it drunk." With that, she disappeared up the stairs.  
  
Well, if Anamaria could do it drunk and it was a piece of chocolate cake...  
  
I was never getting out of here.  
  
**************************  
  
Sometimes I surprise even myself.  
  
It took maybe half an hour and a broken nail, but the lock clicked and the door swung open. Somewhere, Ranger was saying 'way to go, babe.' I made my way to the stairs and found the bundle of clothes Anamaria left.  
  
Things were starting to look up.  
  
At least they were, until I realized that I was tightly laced into the stupid dress. I tried to reach the knot, but it was in that place, right up there between my shoulders, where there was no way in hell I was ever going to reach it. And believe me, I tried.  
  
I laid on the floor and tried.  
  
I stood up and tried.  
  
I was on the floor again, on my stomach, sweating like a pig, probably grunting like a pig, too, straining to get the damned dress untied when I was interrupted by laughter.  
  
Sparrow, of course.  
  
"Well," he said, crouching next to me and rolling me on to my back. "This is interesting."  
  
I bluffed. "You didn't think that flimsy lock could hold me, did you?"  
  
"The great badass bounty hunter of New Jersey? Nah. But it did keep ye busy all afternoon." He reached past me and lifted up the bundle of clothes Anamaria left me. "And where did these come from, love?"  
  
"Didn't you send them for me?" I really didn't want Anamaria to get in trouble. "That was awfully sweet of you, Jack."  
  
"Ah, so it's Jack, now, is it?"  
  
I started to sit up, but he pushed me back down and pinned my wrists with one hand and the rest of me with his body. "Hey!"  
  
"Where we ye going, love? Didn't ye learn your lesson about wanderin' around the ship?"  
  
"I had pants this time!"  
  
"Pants?"  
  
What was the word they used for pants in 1689? "Breeches. I can kick ass in breeches, but I can't kick ass in ten tons of frou-frou."  
  
Sparrow, of course, found this funny. "I had ye bound an' slung over me shoulder in ten seconds flat, my girl. And my ass survived the experience with nary a mark."  
  
"That wasn't a fair fight. I took down that big buy on the other boat."  
  
"Ye hit him in the face with a gun. Was that a fair fight?"  
  
Now I was screwed. If I said yes, he'd tell me what he did was fair. If I said no... What would Ranger say? No. What would Lula say? "Isn't it time for dinner yet?"  
  
"I let ye change the subject once already, love."  
  
Damn, I didn't think he noticed it. Sparrow was really good. He'd gotten me on my eye-rolling and now my subject-changing. But he did like it when I called him Jack, so... "Oh, but Jack, I've been stuck down here all day with nothing to eat."  
  
"Ana didn't bring ye a little somethin' from the galley when she brought ye the lock pick?"  
  
"Ana wasn't here."  
  
"'Course she was."  
  
"Okay, alright. Jeez. She brought me an apple. But I had the lock pick."  
  
"And ye had it hidden where, love?"  
  
"My boot." Which is where I stashed it after I got out of the cell, since the stupid dress, despite being made out of ten tons of frou-frou, didn't have a single pocket.  
  
"Left or right?"  
  
"Right."  
  
And just as it dawned on me why he was asking, his free hand snaked into my boot and plucked out the pick. Before I could call him any number of choice names that came to mind, he had me back in the cell. He slammed the door shut and winked at me. "Don't fret, love. I'm sure Ana will let ye out later."  
  
I could hear Ranger now, that tone, somewhere between disappointment and amusement.  
  
Babe. 


	15. Whacked

"I've been looking all over for ye, Plum. What are ye still doin' in there?"  
  
I looked up slowly at Ana. I'm sure the scowl on my face said it all, but I figured I'd spell it out for her. "Jack's a bastard."  
  
"Jack?" She let out a groan. "What happened?"  
  
"I picked the lock but couldn't get out of the dress and that's when he found me."  
  
"You couldn't get out of the dress?"  
  
"Look where the stupid bow is." I turned around so she could see the impossible location of the darned bow.  
  
"So tear the bloody thing off. It's not like ye like it anyway."  
  
Damn. Why hadn't I thought of that? "Would you get me out of here already?"  
  
"I may as well just leave ye, bein' that Jack knows."  
  
"What?!"  
  
She grinned at me. "Just playin' with ye, Plum."  
  
I rolled my eyes at her.  
  
"Relax. Since he knows, I've got an idea how ye can get some of yer own back before we go off snooping."  
  
**********************  
  
I had to admit, Ana's idea was a good one. And it was simple.  
  
The sun was just setting as I made my way onto the deck. Ana was close on my heels as I made my way up to the helm. Sparrow was busy looking through a telescope, so he didn't notice me coming until I tapped him on the shoulder.  
  
He nearly dropped the telescope, recovered quickly and flashed me a grin. The grin almost made me think twice about what I was going to do. Almost.  
  
"Hello, love."  
  
I smacked him right across the face. Hard.  
  
His mouth formed a perfect 'o' of surprise as his hand went to his cheek. "Maybe I deserved that."  
  
"Maybe? Maybe?!" I had to stop myself from smacking him again. Damn, Ana was right. It was strangely satisfying and even more strange was that Sparrow seemed to like it. "You locked me in a jail cell all day!"  
  
"Brig. Not jail." He rubbed his cheek and looked at me reproachfully. "Ye hit almost as hard as Ana."  
  
"That's a compliment, Plum," Ana whispered in my ear.  
  
I nearly jumped out of my skin. I hadn't heard her come up behind me.  
  
Sparrow shot her a look. "Ye put her up to this, didn't ye, Ana?"  
  
She shrugged . "Ain't like ye didn't have it comin', Jack, makin' her wear this blue monstrosity and lockin' her in the brig."  
  
"What's wrong with the dress," he demanded.  
  
I rolled my eyes. "Do I need to write you a list?! Just give me my clothes back already."  
  
"No." Sparrow arched an eyebrow at me, as if daring me to do something about it.  
  
So I smacked him again.  
  
"Oww!" He took a step back. "Stop that."  
  
"Give me my clothes, Sparrow."  
  
Sparrow took another step back. "What's gotten into ye, Stephanie Plum?"  
  
"I'm a little pissed off, on account of being locked in the stupid brig all day and having nothing to eat," I admitted. "And having to wear this stupid –"  
  
He cut me off with a kiss. This was a Joe Morelli tactic, but I had to admit, it worked pretty well for Sparrow, too. Finally, he broke the kiss and looked down at me, brown eyes dancing with laughter. "All right, love, run along now. I've a ship to navigate."  
  
"Run along?"  
  
"Aye." He punctuated it with a little finger-wave. "Run along."  
  
Ana grabbed my arm and nodded.  
  
I figured she was right and started to follow her.  
  
"Ladies."  
  
We both turned.  
  
Sparrow grinned at us both. "Stay out of trouble."  
  
****Note****  
  
This was inspired by Jess' feedback, wherein she wrote, "Jack's a bastard." Thanks, Jess. We all needed that. 


	16. A Pirate's Life For Me

It wasn't as if I went around looking for trouble. I tried to avoid trouble. Really. The skips that I worked were usually trouble free. Shop- lifters. Gun possession. Deadbeat husbands. But never, ever, murderers.  
  
At least, not without Ranger. And not without a really good reason, like I needed money to pay my excessively high car insurance or I needed a new car. Again.  
  
All I wanted was to avoid dead bodies. Honestly. Somehow, they always jumped out at me, no matter how hard I tried to avoid them.  
  
"He's dead, isn't he?"  
  
Anamaria heaved a weary sigh and nodded. "Third one. Jack's not gonna be pleased."  
  
Our trip into the cargo hold started off being fun. Ana let me poke through some of the trunks of Sparrow's spoils and we tried on some of the tackier jewelry. Lula would have loved it. And then we decided to get down to business.  
  
That's when we found the body.  
  
Actually, I found the body. I tripped over him.  
  
Ana helped me to my feet and held the candle closer so I could see what I tripped over. It turned out to be Stinky, the pirate who showed me his doodle. And he had a great big knife sticking out of his chest.  
  
"Aye," Ana repeated. "Jack ain't gonna like this one bit."  
  
"I guess it's not a love triangle."  
  
"I don't think it's a mutiny, either."  
  
We looked at each other.  
  
"Revenge?"  
  
"Aye, Plum. Revenge."  
  
*****************************  
  
"Revenge?" Sparrow stared at me and then at Ana and then back at me again. "For what?"  
  
I shrugged.  
  
He sighed and rubbed his eyes wearily. "The only I could think of who'd want revenge on Jones'd be you, love."  
  
"Me?"  
  
"Aye. You."  
  
"For what?"  
  
He looked at me as if I'd lost my mind. "For tryin' to ravish ye."  
  
"Oh. That."  
  
"That."  
  
"I broke his nose. Case closed." I shrugged again and looked at Anamaria. "You think I did this?"  
  
"You?" She snorted loudly. "Not likely."  
  
"What about you, Sparrow? You think I did it?"  
  
"Captain, love." He rested his chin on the big wheel of the ship and stared out into the night. "It's Captain Sparrow. And, no, I don't think ye did, though the crew may take some convincing."  
  
"They're a superstitious lot," Ana put in. "And afraid of any woman that has a brain in her head."  
  
Ana scared me, not that I was going to admit it. I wondered if she scared Sparrow, too.  
  
As if he could read my mind, he turned to me, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Ana. Take the helm. Stephanie is going to show me where ye found the body."  
  
************************************  
  
"You must rob a lot of ships."  
  
"Loot, love. It's loot." Sparrow draped his arm around my shoulders and guided me through the hold. "And yes, I do a bit of alright."  
  
"A bit? Look at all this stuff!"  
  
He stopped and looked over the crates and trunks, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Aye, pet, you're right. I'm a bloody good pirate."  
  
I rolled my eyes at this.  
  
"Ana tells me ye want to be a pirate yourself."  
  
"Ana talks too much." I decided to change the subject. "What do you do with all of this stuff?"  
  
"Sell it, divide the profits among the crew, stash a bit on the side. Spend the rest on keeping up the Pearl." Sparrow smiled down at me. "Ye might want to rethink the pirate idea, love."  
  
"Hey! I might make a good pirate." When I was a little girl, I wanted to be Wonder Woman. A bounty hunter wasn't that far off. And since there didn't seem to be any cops in 1689, maybe being a pirate wasn't that bad an idea. Especially since I had no idea how to get back to 2004.  
  
"Ye might," Sparrow allowed. "My crew's already terrified of ye."  
  
"What about you?"  
  
"What about me?" He chuckled softly. "Ye hit pretty hard and ye are handy with a gun, but, love, I think I can take ye in a fair fight."  
  
"Since when do you fight fair?"  
  
"And since when do you, love?" Sparrow chuckled again. "Aye, ye might make a good pirate yet."  
  
Oh goody. A pirate's life for me. Yo ho. Oy. 


	17. Savvying

Every once in a while, the light bulb goes on over my head and I realize that Morelli's been holding out on me. Okay, it's more than once in a while. It happens a lot. Morelli sends me running in circles while he's working a larger case that involves my skip. I've gotten better at reading the signs with Morelli and I can usually tell just as I get in over my head that Morelli knows more than he's letting on.  
  
I didn't know Sparrow nearly as well as I knew Morelli, but when I pointed out the dried bloodstain where we found Stinky's body and Sparrow sighed heavily, the light started to go on at about 40 watts. He turned to me, grabbed me by the waist and lifted me up, seating me on one of the crates crowding the hold.  
  
"You know who the killer is, don't you, Sparrow?"  
  
Sparrow moved closer to me, his arms trapping me on either side, and blocking me with his body. "Aye, my bonny badass. I believe I might at that."  
  
"Are you going to share?" This was the first time he didn't remind me he was Captain Sparrow, savvy, and it convinced me I was right.  
  
"No, I don't believe I will."  
  
"What? Why the hell not?!" And how had he figured it out so quickly? I tried to concentrate, but he was moving even closer to me and that's when I realized he was trying to distract me from something behind him. "What are you hiding?"  
  
His face was maybe an inch from mine and he batted his chocolate brown eyes innocently. "Me? Hiding something?"  
  
"You. Hiding something." I tried to look around him but stopped me by gently pressing his lips to mine. And then it wasn't so gentle and it was enough to make parts of me tingle. But it wasn't enough to distract me from the fact that Sparrow knew more than he was letting on. I tried shoving him back, but he had me pretty well incapacitated. Okay, I could have kneed him in the crotch, but that seemed like overkill. Not to mention that maybe I might actually want those parts functional, if I was going to be stuck here in 1689. So I yanked on one of his dreads. Hard.  
  
"Owwww!" He jerked away from me and shot me a look. "What did ye do that for?"  
  
I propelled myself off the crate and past Sparrow before he could stop me. There were no smoking guns, literally or figuratively. Just more crates. I was missing something that would probably have been obvious to Anamaria.  
  
"I told ye I wasn't hiding anything, love." Sparrow took my arm and turned me away from the crates.  
  
Okay, so whatever it was involved those crates. I twisted around and saw what I'd missed. The crates had been opened and sloppily nailed shut again. All of the other crates in the hold were nailed like they'd never been opened. "What was in those crates, Spa -- uh, Captain Sparrow?"  
  
"Call me Jack, love. I like it when ye call me Jack. Stephanie."  
  
Sparrow's voice was silky, with more than a hint of bedroom in it. Just the sound made my nipples hard. It was my turn. I leaned forward and ran my hand over his chest and purred, "What was in the crates, Jack, darling?"  
  
"Booty."  
  
"Say what?" And then I remembered that before the Seventies, booty something other than what you shook on the dance floor.  
  
"Blunt. Loot. Swag. Plunder. Savvy?"  
  
"Oh, I savvy alright, Sparrow." I savvied that he wasn't going to tell me a blessed thing. I was going to need Ana's help.  
  
***********************  
  
FYI - Janet Evanovich has posted the first two parts of Chapter One of Ten Big Ones on her website, www.evanovich.com. 


	18. Opportune Moments

It sounds sexy, doesn't it, being thrown over the shoulder of the gorgeous, lean, muscular pirate captain and carried to his cabin where he has his wicked way with you. I had to admit, it sounded sexy to me. The real thing was even sexier than the fantasy. Too bad it wasn't going to happen.  
  
"Uh, Sparrow? What are you doing?"  
  
He opened the door to his cabin, strode over to the bed and lowered me gently. His mouth twisted into a smile. "It ought to be obvious to a girl of your many talents, love."  
  
I tried to sit up, but he pushed me back down by my shoulders. "Come on, we have a killer to catch –"  
  
"Stephanie." Sparrow shook his head slowly, and clucked softly. "I'd have thought that a bounty hunter such as ye would understand the importance of waiting for the opportune moment."  
  
"The what?!"  
  
"Opportune moment," he repeated, firmly, his brown eyes staring into mine. "Aye, I've learned the value of patience, Stephanie Plum, and learned it the hard way. There are some things that ought not be rushed, that cannot be rushed. So ye wait for the opportune moment, use your advantage and claim your prize."  
  
"The opportune moment, huh?"  
  
"Aye."  
  
It was a very Ranger concept. Problem was, I'm not a patient person by nature. If I see a pair of, say, strappy pink sandals that I really can't afford and know they'll be on sale if I wait, chances are, I won't. I don't leave leftovers, either. And here was temptation staring me in the face again. Sparrow. Sexy. Pirate. Sparrow. "Is this one of those opportune moments?"  
  
"It could be."  
  
What was that slogan for Hedonism? What happens in Hedonism stays in Hedonism? It made sense to me. Besides, I was still pretty sure that none of this was real. After all, nobody gets blown out of the Macy's parking lot back to 1689 and to the Caribbean. Nobody. Except me. So this was a hallucination, right? But why were there dead bodies in my hallucination? Sparrow's lips brushing mine brought my attention back to the man whose bed I was in. "Claim my prize, huh?"  
  
"Aye, lass." His eyes twinkled at me, and, gold teeth or not, Sparrow had a sexy smile. "That prize'd be me."  
  
Like I said, I'm not patient.  
  
***************************************  
  
"God's teeth, woman," Sparrow panted, flopping onto his back. "You really go in for the attack, don't ye?"  
  
I touched the top of my head to make sure it was still there. I was pretty sure my eyes were still in their sockets, but beyond that, it was going to take a while before I could check on the rest of me.  
  
Sparrow surprised the hell out of me when he sat up and stretched and then swung his legs over the side of the bed.  
  
"Hey! Where are you going?"  
  
He smiled at me. "Well, love, as I said before, we pirates are a superstitious lot. And being as every time we've so much as kissed, there's been a dead body or some other calamity poppin' up, I need to check to make sure the ship hasn't blown up around us because I don't think I'd have heard it if she did."  
  
It was very flattering, but he was, after all, a pirate. "You're not sneaking off to seize that other opportune moment, are you?"  
  
"Who, me?"  
  
"You."  
  
"Ah, love."  
  
"That's all? 'Ah, love.' What the hell does 'ah, love' mean, Sparrow?!"  
  
"Why does it have to mean anything?"  
  
"Because it does." I sat up and shot him my fiercest bounty hunter look. "I'm going with you."  
  
"Stephanie Plum." He swooped forward, guided me back down to the bed and planted a gentle kiss on my forehead. "Ye'll be there. When the opportune moment presents itself, ye'll be there. Trust me, this isn't it. I'm just going to check on the ship."  
  
"Trust you? You're the one who keeps reminding me you're a pirate –"  
  
"A very exhausted pirate. I'll be back in a few minutes, Stephanie, and I'll even bring ye a snack."  
  
Well, if he was going to bring me a snack.... "All right, but if you're not back soon, I'm coming after you."  
  
"I'll be back, darlin'. We've some hours before daybreak and I intend to make the most of them."  
  
A snack and more orgasms. It was almost too good to be true. Probably it was too good to be true. Probably, Sparrow was going to sneak off and take care of the killer. Without me.  
  
Unless I could get to AnaMaria and find out who the killer was and get there first.  
  
If I could get out of this bed.  
  
If. 


	19. Motives

I gave Sparrow the benefit of the doubt and waited until my legs worked again. I figured that would have been long enough for him to check on the ship and come back with a snack. By the time I'd helped myself to one of his shirts and a pair of his pants, I knew he wasn't coming back anytime soon. So much for my being there with him at the opportune moment.  
  
At least he didn't lock me in his cabin again. I slipped out and made my way towards the stairs that would take me back to the cargo hold. Sparrow was up at the helm, talking to Anamaria. It looked pretty serious and I wondered if he was telling her who the killer was. She saw me and scratched her chin, which I guessed was some kind of code or maybe she just had an itch. It turned out to be a code, because Sparrow took the helm and she bounded towards me. Without breaking her stride, she headed straight past me and hissed at me to follow.  
  
Once we were safely below deck, she turned and gave me a friendly punch in the shoulder. "What's afoot, Plum?"  
  
"Didn't Sparrow tell you?"  
  
She shot me a wicked grin. "No need. Ye made so much noise I bet they heard ye back in Port Royal."  
  
"What?!"  
  
"I'm kidding, Plum. Not that it ain't obvious, judgin' by the looks of the two of ye." She punched me in the arm again. "Ye won me a small bit, too. The crew had a wager on when the two of you would do the deed. The longest any lass ever held out on Jack was eleven days, but that was because she were a nun."  
  
"A nun? Sparrow and a nun?!"  
  
"Aye. Now there's a fine story. But that's not what got ye wanderin' about in Jack's favorite shirt, is it?"  
  
I looked down at the shirt. It was a plain, white shirt, just like the other four in his trunk. "What's so special about this one?"  
  
Ana shrugged. "Beats me, but that's his favorite."  
  
"Sparrow knows who the killer is."  
  
"And?"  
  
"And I don't. He wouldn't share. It had something to do with four crates in the cargo hold."  
  
Her eyes narrowed. "Four crates?"  
  
I nodded. "Somebody opened them but didn't seal them up too well. Do you know what was in them?"  
  
She raised a hand to the top of her chest. "About so high?"  
  
"Yup."  
  
"Huh."  
  
"Huh? What's huh?"  
  
"That was a haul from off the coast of Hispaniola. Small merchant ship." She nibbled her lip, thoughtfully. "It would have been a good haul, if there weren't that little complication."  
  
"Complication? What kind of complication?"  
  
"The merchant ship was part of a fleet that shipped coffee. Turned out the fleet's owned by some fancy Jew who has a friend or two in the East India Company. Long story short, it's been too hot to unload the coffee, if ye get my meanin'."  
  
Oh, I got her meaning, all right. "That doesn't explain why somebody would open the crates of coffee, unless there was something other than coffee in those crates."  
  
"Coffee's a rare enough commodity. What else would be in the crates?"  
  
Somehow, cocaine didn't seem likely. "Guns? Money?"  
  
"I like the way ye think, Plum. Just like a pirate."  
  
Or the girlfriend of a vice cop. "Which brings us to the next question. How long have you been carrying the crates and what new crew-members did you bring on board since then?"  
  
"Six months, just about. And we've only taken on one new scallywag."  
  
We looked at each other.  
  
Ana grinned at me. "Looks like we found us a killer."  
  
"And a motive."  
  
"Aye, and it's even better than revenge. Money."  
  
Quick note: the idea for the coffee comes from the very excellent novel by David Liss, The Coffee Trader. Liss is also the author of two novels featuring Benjamin Weaver, a 17th century Jewish detective (thief-taker) in London. 


	20. Homesick

It was a good thing Anamaria told me where the crowbar was, or I would have had a hell of a time getting the first crate open. Ana was probably the best partner I ever had since becoming a bounty hunter. She knew how to do all the things that Lula, Mary Lou Molnar and Albert Kloughn didn't know how to do. Like fighting. And distracting Sparrow.  
  
I was pretty sure Lula could have stopped Sparrow in his tracks. After all, Lula was a former ho and she knew how to distract men. Besides, Lula was a plus-size woman who liked to squeeze herself into petite size Spandex in colors like bright yellow or pink, with the makeup to match. And if her appearance or gift for conversation didn't stop Sparrow, she could have knocked him down, assuming she wasn't wearing a really good pair of shoes that day.  
  
Mary Lou, my best friend since high school, wasn't exactly cut out for undercover work. We tried spying on Morelli once, to see if we could catch him in the act of fooling around with Terry Gilman. Morelli was on to us in under a minute.  
  
As for Kloughn...well, he wasn't good at anything.  
  
As I finally managed to get the top off of the first crate, it occurred to me that I was missing the people in my life. Bad. It had been three days and there was no Grandma Mazur to accidentally set the dinner table on fire. I wanted to go home. But then I was going to miss Sparrow, who, despite everything, had kind of grown on me.  
  
Pushing these thoughts aside, I peered into the crate. I saw cloth bags that I assumed were full of coffee. It took some work to pull one out of the crate and then I was surprised to realize that these were coffee beans. Years of Starbucks and Maxwell House had me convinced that coffee didn't come in any other forms except ground or in a cup, waiting for milk.  
  
I opened the sack and peered in. Nothing peered back. With a resigned sigh, I stuck my hand in the bag and fished around. I didn't feel anything remotely resembling a gun and there were no plastic-wrapped bricks of cocaine. Not that I expected plastic-wrapped bricks of cocaine, since I didn't think either plastic-wrap or cocaine had been invented yet. I pulled out a handful of beans.  
  
There, mixed among what I figured was some kind of French roast, were shiny, black rocks. I plucked one out and dumped the beans back into the bag. I had no idea what I was holding in my hand, but it was valuable enough to kill for. It was time to take my discovery to Sparrow.  
  
"Excuse me, miss?"  
  
I looked up to see the young cabin boy staring at me. Except he didn't look so young anymore and he was holding a wicked looking knife. 


	21. Answers

"I wondered when I was going to have to kill you," he said, stepping closer. "It's such a waste, though."  
  
"Then don't." My fingers brushed the crowbar as a backed up a step. It was safe to say that I wasn't very good at fights, which was why I didn't fight fair if I could avoid it. Even if I used the crowbar, I wasn't going to get more than one swing with it, probably.  
  
"You're going to tell Sparrow and I'm not ready for him to know yet."  
  
"He knows already."  
  
"Then why are you down here searching through the coffee," he countered. And then his eyes lit up. "Sparrow hasn't figured out that he's got real treasure on board, has he?"  
  
I took another step back and changed the subject. "Who are you?"  
  
The kid grinned at me. "I'm the bounty hunter that you claim to be. Rob Grujters, agent of the Dutch East India Company."  
  
I guess I was supposed to have been impressed. I figured I could be impressed later. In the meantime, I needed to stall until I figured out how to get out of this alive. "That doesn't explain why you've killed all those people."  
  
"The Dutch want their opium back and they don't care how many filthy British pirates I have to go through to get it for them."  
  
Okay, so this was a political thing. Not to mention a drug thing. Opium! I gave myself a mental head slap for not thinking of it earlier. "But the ship Sparrow said he took the coffee from was British."  
  
"False papers. This is Javanese coffee." He looked at me as if that explained everything but when he realized I still had no clue, he went on. "We harvest our opium in Java. The Brits have forbidden importation of opium into London, but they have to have their coffee. It works out all around."  
  
"That still doesn't explain why you'd risk exposing yourself by starting a killing spree."  
  
"Callinan had a fondness for the poppy, it turned out," Grujters said, smugly. "He was the first one to break into these crates. The fool was probably looking to skim some coffee beans when he came across the opium. He and his friends turned the armory into an opium den. It was only a matter of time before Sparrow found out."  
  
"So you took care of it."  
  
"I did. And now I'm going to take care of you."  
  
It would have been the perfect time for Morelli or Sparrow to show up. Neither of them did. So I grabbed the crowbar and swung it with all my might at the wrist of Grujters' knife hand.  
  
He howled in pain as the knife clattered across the hold.  
  
I lunged for him now, figuring I could probably take him. We were about the same size and I had two functional wrists. I didn't expect him to recover so quickly. And I didn't expect him to have a gun.  
  
Grujters didn't was a second with threats or warnings. He just cocked the thing and fired. There was a loud explosion and then everything went black.  
  
And then everything smelled like coffee.  
  
I was covered in the stuff, but I was alive, and if I stayed that way, maybe my ears would stop ringing. Grujters may have been good with a knife, but he had lousy aim with a gun. He'd managed to take out a crate of coffee and Sparrow's favorite shirt.  
  
Grujters was saying something to me, but my ears were ringing so loudly I couldn't make it out. Instead, I pointed to Sparrow, who stood in the doorway with half a dozen of his pirates, each of them with their guns drawn.  
  
In less than a minute, Grujters was tied up and marched out of the hold, leaving me alone with Sparrow.  
  
His lips were moving and I was pretty sure he said something about ruining his favorite shirt and maybe even doing something stupid. And then I didn't bother to have to read his lips. 


	22. There's No Place Like Home

"What are you doing?"  
  
"Nothing."  
  
"Ye were chantin' 'there's no place like home'." Sparrow propped himself up on an elbow and looked at me. "I know ye're a bit daft, love, but that's strange, even for you."  
  
I took a page from Anamaria's book and socked him in the shoulder. "What do you mean, a bit daft, Sparrow?"  
  
We were in bed, snuggled under the covers, where Sparrow had put me after helping me scrub off the coffee and scolding me for ruining his favorite shirt. I didn't have the heart to tell him about my history with cars and that he should be thankful the Black Pearl was all in one piece.  
  
"Exactly what it sounds like," he said, nibbling my neck. "Ye're good with tall tales, but I still don't believe in a place called New Jersey or that ye're a bounty hunter."  
  
"I don't believe in the Santa Claus, but things happen," came a booming male voice.  
  
Sparrow and I both sat up and looked at our visitor. He had wavy blond hair, tied back into in a ponytail, and he was wearing a motorcycle jacket and CAT boots. I recognized him instantly. "Diesel! I knew it! I knew this had something to do with you!"  
  
Diesel grinned at me. "And hello to you, too, sweet cheeks. Who's your friend? Blackbeard?"  
  
Since Sparrow was busy making strange, strangled noises, I decided to answer for him. "That's Captain Jack Sparrow. Savvy?"  
  
"Say what?" Diesel plunked himself down in one of the chairs by Sparrow's desk. "I've been looking all over for you."  
  
It began to dawn on me that this was no hallucination. And I was really in bed with a pirate. In 1689.  
  
"Turns out," Diesel continued, grinning at my reaction, "our old friend Ring had a son who has a few friends and they decided to get even with you for helping to take him down. They gave your skip, what was his name, Ciesman....Ciester...?"  
  
"Cieslak."  
  
"Cieslak. They gave him a special grenade and some cash. Your Explorer is totaled, by the way. Hope your insurance was paid up."  
  
I tugged Sparrow's sheets closer. "So when can I go home?"  
  
"Well, that's kind of a problem," Diesel admitted.  
  
"You got here. Can't you just take me back with you?"  
  
"It doesn't work that way, sweet cheeks, but we're working on it. The hard part was finding you. We figured John Junior just blasted you somewhere else on Earth. We didn't figure he sent you through time."  
  
"Now wait just a bloody minute there, mate." Sparrow finally found his tongue and his pants, apparently. "I don't know how ye got on my ship ---"  
  
"You wouldn't understand. It involves quantum mechanics and other secret stuff," Diesel assured him, standing up. "I won't be staying long. I came to check on Stephanie here and let her know we're working on getting her home. Home is 2004, in case you're wondering."  
  
My head was pounding. "Morelli –"  
  
"Doesn't know yet. All he knows is they found your Explorer and your slut shoes in the Macy's parking lot. As soon as the report came through, I knew you were involved."  
  
"What report? It was on the news?" I groaned. "My mother is going to have a cow!"  
  
"A different report. The guys I work with keep track of that kind of stuff."  
  
"The superheroes."  
  
"Right. Anyway, we've found you and now we're going to work on getting you home. In the meantime, it looks like you've found yourself a new playmate to keep you busy and I brought you something so you wouldn't get homesick." He reached into his jacket and tossed something at me before opening the door to Sparrow's cabin. "It's probably a big violation of the rules, but I like you, sweet cheeks, so I figured we could chance it."  
  
With that, Diesel stepped through the door.  
  
Sparrow grabbed his sword and raced after him. After a couple of seconds, he walked back in, a puzzled look on his face. "He's gone."  
  
"He does that."  
  
"Ye've got a lot of explainin' to do, love," Sparrow sighed, plunking himself back down on the bed next to me. "What did he bring you?"  
  
I held up the small paper bag and smiled. "Doughnuts."  
  
Not quite the end.... 


End file.
